


small sacrifices

by naktoms



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: 5 Things, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Gen, real unsure abt the ending but what can u do, the category says gen but you can still see my ship biases if u look hard enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naktoms/pseuds/naktoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things the Vagabond does for the people he loves most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	small sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> [man wiping sweat with 50 towels.jpg]  
> this is my first official rt fic!! who's ready for my descent into hell bc i sure am  
> all the scenarios except for 1 were taken from [this post](http://kaijuborn.tumblr.com/post/103882374464/domesticau-prompts)!
> 
> kudos + comments are appreciated!! i hope you enjoy!!

~~~~1.

 

Geoff may feel like a man when he’s downing five shots in two minutes, but he does not feel like a man when he’s getting acquainted with the porcelain throne. It is almost ten in the morning; he woke up at seven and has not moved from the bathroom since.

He has his forehead resting against the toilet seat, forcing himself to not think about the balls that have graced it, when he hears the door of his penthouse open. _Fucking great_.

“Boss?” comes Ryan’s voice. Geoff knows why he’s here, to get directions to the weapons deal Geoff has entrusted him with. You forget the following day’s responsibilities when you’re two pints in.

Geoff groans loudly in reply, not raising his head. Footsteps approach, and Geoff turns his head to look. “Well, don’t you look great,” Ryan comments dryly. Geoff thinks about flipping him off, but he doesn’t want to raise his arm. He doesn’t want to move at all, actually.

Geoff expects Ryan to take the _I am fucking dying here_ hint and leave, or just go like, watch TV until Geoff is done vomiting his guts into the toilet. Ryan does turn to leave after a few moments, and Geoff sighs and closes his eyes once more.

Ryan reappears a few minutes later. “Here,” he says, and Geoff cracks open an eye to look at him; Ryan is holding a glass of water and a plate containing two slices of toast. “Dry heaves are a tool of the devil, and you’ll get dehydrated besides. Take it.”

Geoff sits up with a groan, doing as he’s told and reluctantly taking the victuals and taking a bite of the toast. “Thanks,” he says through a mouthful, craning his neck to look at Ryan. Ryan is notably unmasked, and a little scruffy around the jaw this morning.

“No problem.” Ryan sits a couple feet away, back against the bathroom cabinets. “You gonna be okay?”

“No,” Geoff replies. “And here is my will: burn my money and give my crew a big fuck you.”

Ryan cracks a smile. Geoff shoves more toast in his mouth. “I’ll do neither of those things. Can I be trusted to run the show?”

“Hell _no_. Jack gets to run this bitch if I ever bite the dust. I mean, if she wants. If not, well… we’re all fucked.”

“Well, not you. You’ll be cremated or something. Your dust will no longer be bothered by much of anything.”

Geoff doesn’t deign that with a response. Ryan chuckles.

They sit in silence for a bit, Geoff sipping water and inhaling bread, until Ryan speaks again. “Some of my old friends had some strange hangover cures.”

“Yeah?” Geoff prompts, raising an eyebrow. He might as well make light conversation while he’s waiting to retch his very soul out once more.

“Yeah. One girl used to make kale smoothies. A lot of them used to just drink more, which doesn’t really make sense to me. Then there’s clam juice, and Coke and milk…”

“All I do is suffer my ass off and whine about how stupid I am,” Geoff replies, setting his now-empty plate on the floor. “Which I will now continue to go. The directions are all typed out and printed, layin’ on my desk… you can go get ‘em.

“Is that a hint for me to leave you alone?” Ryan asks with a soft smile.

“Yep. But, hey, thanks buddy. I really do appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Ryan says once again as he stands, stretching briefly. “See you later, boss.”

Ryan pulls the door to when he leaves. Geoff listens as Ryan’s footsteps fade, but any sentimental thoughts he may have had fade away when his stomach lurches.

 

2.

 

Jack is leafing through the take from their last heist, divvying up each member’s share, when she hears Ryan yelling indistinctly. Jack eventually locates Ryan in the kitchen. “What’s up?” she asks, leaning against the door facing.

“Hey! Can you come and taste this for me?” Ryan is holding up a spoon, and Jack notices that the stovetop is on and there is a pot of something atop the burner.

“Are you cooking dinner?” Jack asks, somewhat incredulous. She walks over nonetheless, and sips the liquid in the spoon that’s offered to her. “Shit, Ryan, that’s good. What is it?”

“Vegetable soup,” Ryan says, and there is a hint of pride in his voice. Jack peeks into the pot, and sure enough, there is all manner of vegetables simmering in tomato juice. “I figured that we’re going to be here for a few more days, so we can’t survive on instant ramen and canned ravioli.”

“A man of many talents,” Jack mumbles, watching as Ryan stirs the soup idly. “What else can you make?”

“Uh… pasta. A lotta casseroles. Do you guys like fried chicken? ‘Cause I can do that, too.”

“I dunno about them, but fried chicken is a go for me. Dinner for two, huh?”

Ryan grins. “Sure. Do you think the soup needs anything else?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t guess, tastes fine to me. Can’t wait to eat it.”

“Well, the potatoes are soft, so I guess we could go ahead and eat. Seems like Geoff and Michael are gonna be out for a while, I dunno where the other two are…”

“Probably playing Mario Kart or something and beating the shit out of each other,” Jack says with a laugh. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Jack exits the kitchen and makes her way down the hall to where she hears Ray and Gavin shouting at each other. She muses that she can’t quite connect the man she saw this morning, snapping necks and filling enemies with lead, with the one standing in the kitchen stirring soup.

  
3.

 

The stereotype that women take the most time to get ready is not true in the Fake AH Crew.

“Ryan, you piece of shit!” Michael yells, knocking on the door roughly. “I need to _shit_ , Ryan, hurry the fuck up!”

“Give me a minute!” Ryan yells back, muffled by the door. Michael rolls his eyes so hard they hurt.

“The fuck are you doing in there?” Michael asks loudly after a few moments.

“The face paint is my schtick, Michael, you can’t neglect the _schtick_ ,” Ryan complains.

“Okay, fuck you, I’m shitting in your shoes.” Michael turns to leave, and the door opens. Michael spins around, mouth opening to sling more insults, but Ryan looks so fucking goofy that he forgets what he was going to say. Ryan’s face paint is, apparently, ten times less disturbing when it’s only half finished. “You look like a fucking idiot,” Michael remarks.

“That’s why the extra time is _necessary_ ,” Ryan says, gesturing to his face. “This? This is not ready for a heist. This is ready for a children’s birthday party.”

“Pretty sure you’d scare the kids to fuckin’ death if you showed up like that,” Michael replies. “Can’t you take a compact mirror or something? I’m seriously gonna shit my pants, dude.”

“Fine, you can shit, and I’ll finish it later. Asshole,” Ryan adds on as he walks out of the bathroom and Michael walks in.

“Love you too, bitch.” Michael says over his shoulder, kicking the door closed.

  
4.

 

Ray wakes up the morning they’re supposed to meet and discuss new heist plans and finds that he is unable to breathe through his nose. He still shows, however, because he’s not a total pussy.

“Hey,” Michael says as Ray enters Geoff’s living room.

“Fuck me with a cactus,” Ray replies, voice nasally.

“Oh shit, dude, are you sick?” Michael asks, and Ray fixes him with his best _really, dude_ look. “Geoff’s got some cold medicine, go take some.”

“Nah, man, medicine’s for pussies.” Ray flops down on the couch, crossing his arms. “I’ll be fine.”

Michael doesn’t look so sure, but he lets it go. Thankfully, Ray doesn’t have to talk hardly at all once the meeting starts, Geoff rattling off his plans and Jack filling the spaces in between. Also thankfully, Michael keeps his mouth shut about it, letting Ray suffer in peace.

The meeting is dismissed but none of them leave, splitting off to putter around Geoff’s penthouse or talk to one another. Ray is on the verge of dozing off when the couch cushions sink under new weight beside him. He doesn’t bother looking, because whoever it is will get a hearty _fuck off and let me die, bro_.

“Hey,” Ryan says, voice soft. “You look a little under the weather, are you feelin’ okay?”

“No, Ryan, I am in fact dying. I’ve caught the swine flu or something.” Ray still doesn’t bother looking at Ryan while he speaks. “Let me die in peace, dude.”

“Nah. I’ll be back, give me a second.” Ryan stands and walks away, returning with a glass of water and two tablets that he insistently presses into Ray’s palm. “Take these, and go back to sleep. Rest does a body good, you know.”

“Wow, when did my mom fly in?” Ray mumbles before he knocks the pills and water back. Ryan chuckles. “Thanks, dude.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else, ‘kay?”

“Sure. A bullet to the head, maybe?”

Ryan snorts. “Another day. Can’t get blood on Geoff’s furniture, you know.”

“Aw, damn.”

Ryan turns to walk away, then seems to think twice and sits down beside Ray instead. Ray pays him little mind, instead going back to his former state of Almost Sleep.

  
5.

 

Ryan is cleaning his guns, according to routine, when slender arms wrap loosely around his neck.

“Hey, Ry, would you be a dear and do me a favor?” Gavin asks, pressing his cheek against Ryan’s.

“I dunno, what is it?” Ryan asks in turn, not pausing in his ministrations as he puts his pistol back together.

“I wanna paint my room,” Gavin half-whines, draping himself over Ryan’s back. “Nobody will go paint shopping with me. Geoff n’ Jack are busy, Michael told me to piss off, and Ray wouldn’t answer my texts.”

“So, what, I’m a last resort now?” Ryan asks teasingly.

“Well, not exactly. I thought a nice afternoon of painting with my boi would be fun, but he’s got better things to do. Have you ever gone to the Home Depot, Ryan?”

“Uh, yes, I have? Are we going to shop for paint at Home Depot?”

“Why not, might as well. Are you gonna be done soon?”

Ryan gives his artillery a sweeping glance. He’s still got quite a few to dismantle, but the last pieces of his pistol have clicked together in his hands and suddenly paint shopping sounds really great. Better than scrubbing away gunpowder, at least.

“You know, I think it’s time for a break,” Ryan says, standing. “Let’s go to the Home Depot, Gav.”

The car ride over is surprisingly quiet, but the instant they enter the store and reach the paint department Gavin does not shut up.

“What do you think,” Gavin says, holding up two paint chips. “The peach color, or this one, the bright blue.”

Ryan takes the swatches from him, appraising the indicated colors and then handing them back. “The bright blue is nice, but maybe you should go for something a little more… pastel?”

“Pastel,” Gavin repeats, turning back to the vast display of paint colors and locating the blue section once more. “You think I’m a pastel sort of guy, Ryan?”

“Well, not just that, but you have to consider that the penthouse walls are white. The rest would bitch for sure if they were blinded by aquamarine every time they went to wake you up.”

“Good point. How about this?”

Ryan leans over to peek at the pale blue color Gavin is pointing at, nodding in approval. “Nice, I like it.”

Gavin looks absolutely delighted. They buy a gallon of the color, and on their way out Gavin snatches up a package of paintbrushes.


End file.
